Curing a Broken Heart
by Wamakai
Summary: He was still there where you left him. Despite everything, he was still there like he said he would be. Takeshi Yamamoto was sitting on your doorstep waiting for you to open it and let him in... Reader x Yamamoto fic. R&R? Thankies!


He was still there where you left him.

Despite everything, he was still there like he said he would be.

Takeshi Yamamoto was sitting on your doorstep waiting for you to open it and let him in. You were in trouble, that much he knew. You needed him. He knew that too. You would open the door when you were ready. He knew you knew that as well.

You leaned your back against the door as tears rolled down your cheeks. How, after everything, could he still want to be associated with you? How, after everything that had happened, could he still want to come in and hold you in his arms and smooth the worry lines off your face like always? What was wrong with that stupid guy? Didn't he get it? You didn't want or need his pity and you weren't going to ask him for it.

You banged on the door angry at him now.

"Go away!" you yelled as a sob escaped from your parted lips. He rose then and walked to the door. You were on the floor, having slid down the wall, on your knees and crying harder than ever. Not once had you imagined this day would come.

"Open the door [Name]-chan, please," he said. You were powerless to stop him if he bothered to reach for the handle and figure out that the door wasn't locked. He did just that a moment later and found you hugging your stomach, violent sobs racking your frame and bitter tears coursing down your cheeks.

You cried harder and louder when his arms went around you. You grabbed onto his shirt and didn't dare let go. He was the one solid thing in a world that had turned to putty. He didn't say anything else, just wrapped his strong gentle arms around you and let you cry.

The worst part about the situation was that Yamamoto never failed to cheer you up. His easy smile and quiet understanding of each shift of mood you ever got was eerily on the mark every time. Your sobs gradually died down to sniffles and your breathing quietened too. That's when you noticed his lips in your hair and the soft rubbing motion of his hands on your back.

You looked at the mess you had made of his shirt and inwardly cringed as your sore eyes squinted in the evening light. You looked up at him and he smiled down at you.

"Come on," he said with one of his more comforting smiles, "let's get you off this cold floor." With that, he picked you up off the floor and carried you to the living room where he lay you gently on the sofa. You lay a hand over your eyes and sighed.

It had been a long time since you had cried that much, and you never cried in front of anyone. This time, he had brought it on himself, but you couldn't help feeling a little guilty at ruining his shirt. You cringed as you sat up, your head pounding. A second later, a gentle hand eased you back down with a cold compress lightly pressed over your eyes.

"Relax, I got this," he said. You sighed again and let him settle you back down.

If there was one thing you had learned about Takeshi, it was that he didn't like to see anyone hurting. He would do his best to cheer anyone up and hardly ever let things get to him.

Your yelling at him had only brought him back, made him more determined to see you.

Your stomping off had only strengthened his resolve to follow you home.

Your refusal to talk to him had only made him want to speak with you more.

"I'm sorry Takeshi," you said as he lifted the compress off so you could look at him. He had disposed of the shirt and was bare-chested now as he smiled down at you. You had never see a more beautiful sight in all the twenty two years of your life and you felt the tears start again.

He knelt beside you and wiped away the tear that had slipped free. Why did he always have to be so sweet and caring? You had seen how much he liked you. He had told you too, but you had rejected him and he was still there. You had chosen the scum bag that was the reason you had not eaten properly in the last week and your eyes were all red. He was probably off chasing yet another skirt, as usual. How hadn't you seen that one coming?

You threw your arms around his neck and heaved again letting all the guilt for everything wash over you.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered hiccuping your sobs. His hold tightened and you held him tight. You knew he would not let go until you were ready to. He should have been hating you. He should have turned away and never looked back, but if he did that, you would probably have simply never shown yourself in public again like you had originally planned before he turned up at your doorstep. You were getting away with it too.

He smoothed your hair down your back and said nothing. You didn't expect him to. He was good at that; letting you tell him whatever you wanted. When he did speak, it would always be the right thing. You pulled away to look at him and wiped his shoulder where your tears had wet it.

"I keep doing this, I'm..." this time, his fingers hushed you.

"That's enough. No more pity," he said with a small smile as he wiped the last of your tears away, "feel better now?"

You sniffed and nodded then smiled at him. He took your hand in his and raised it to his lips never breaking eye contact with you.

"You should rest. I'll get dinner ready for you, shall I?" he said and got up to head for the kitchen after placing another compress over your eyes. You were about to protest and get up to do it yourself when he gently pressed you back against the cushions.

"Stop it [Name]. He got a chance to look after you and he failed. Now it's my turn," he said simply. You couldn't refuse him if he put it that way. Shutting your tired eyes, you let sleep steal over you and let him do the rest.

Needless to say that the meal was impressive and he made sure you ate a substantial amount before carrying your plate and his to the sink and doing the dishes. How had you overlooked such a thoughtful man and gone with that idiot? You shook your head and looked at him again. He made you a cup of tea and sat talking with you about many things, useful and not and before you knew it, there was a smile on your face and laughter in your heart.

That night, he took you to your room and before you could stop him, he had kissed your lips. You didn't react fast enough. You never wanted it to end. He rubbed the back of his hand on your cheek and smiled kissing your nose.

"[name]-chan, I will always be here for you. You know that, right?" he said in a gentle voice. You nodded dumbly and he hugged you once more then let you go into your room. He would take the couch tonight. Maybe he understood? Of course he did. Yamamoto always understood your feelings. If he wasn't eerily on the mark, you would be prompted to think that he wasn't the same Yamamoto you knew and demand that the real one come out.

He left after kissing your forehead and saying goodnight. You hugged your pillow with a smile for the first time in days. It wasn't the cure to a broken heart, but it was definitely a start.


End file.
